


At Long Last

by valda



Series: The Deaths of Allegiant General Pryde [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assassination Attempt(s), Blow Jobs, Brief suicide ideation, First Kiss, Fix-It, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Minor Character Death, POV Armitage Hux, Past Child Abuse, Poison, Poisoning, Submissive Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24947548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valda/pseuds/valda
Summary: An assassination attempt at a First Order officers' party goes wildly wrong due to the would-be assassin's own incompetence. This unexpected good luck brings with it even better things for Armitage Hux.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Series: The Deaths of Allegiant General Pryde [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794328
Comments: 24
Kudos: 137





	At Long Last

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Наконец](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29560131) by [WTF Kylo and Hux 2021 (Our_Own_Star_Wars)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Our_Own_Star_Wars/pseuds/WTF%20Kylo%20and%20Hux%202021)



> Originally posted to Tumblr [here](https://cosleia.tumblr.com/post/622098149044109312/prompt-from-sam7sparks7-poisoned-a-drink-to). Content notes: the death by poison is described, but it's not intensely graphic. The suicide ideation is very brief.

It’s been over two hours. General Armitage Hux knows because he’s been surreptitiously checking the chrono approximately every 30 seconds.

He doesn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be here in the first place. But far be it from him to disobey the not-an-order-but-it-may-as-well-be of Allegiant General Enric Pryde, who outranks Armitage due to the technicality of Armitage no longer having a flagship, even though Armitage once controlled the entire First Order fleet and served as a respected member of High Command.

None of that means anything anymore, he thinks sourly as he stands in what passes for a corner in one the _Steadfast_ ’s secondary TIE hangars and watches officers in dress uniforms mill about with glasses and small plates. The _Finalizer_ is gone, the _Supremacy_ is gone, Snoke is gone, and now High Command is gone too, replaced by Kylo Ren’s ‘Supreme Council’. That Ren put Armitage on that council is hardly cause for satisfaction or relief, given that Ren antagonizes Armitage at every possible moment, either by implying Armitage is thinking disloyal thoughts or refusing to entertain any of Armitage’s ideas. It’s like he’s keeping Armitage close just to rub in the fact that he won their years-long rivalry.

(Armitage can accept that Ren won, but he doesn’t have to like it.

(Unless, of course, Ren orders him to.)

This little party of Pryde’s is just like what Ren’s doing. It’s Pryde’s way of flaunting the fact that _he_ now commands the First Order fleet, which now includes Emperor Palpatine’s Sith Fleet, hundreds of ships kept hidden until the perfect moment to upstage Armitage. Where was Pryde all those years the First Order was salvaging and improving the best parts of the Empire after the Galactic Civil War? Where was Pryde when Armitage ramped up the stormtrooper program, designed Starkiller Base, invented hyperspace tracking, and led the First Order to victory in dozens of secret missions before open war was finally declared? Where was Pryde during the Battle of Crait? If anything, Pryde is a coward sweeping in at the last minute to take all the credit for the work Armitage did while Pryde was off hiding somewhere.

Unfortunately, Pryde is actually getting that credit. Whether everyone truly believes the allegiant general is the savior of the First Order or they’re just trying to avoid Ren’s ire, Pryde is the one getting his way now. Pryde is the one Ren doesn’t countermand. Pryde has everything Armitage once had. Perhaps more.

Two hours is far too long to obsess over this—it would be better to bury it, try not to think about it at all—but it’s hard to think about anything else at a party for Pryde, hosted by Pryde, at which Pryde is circulating through the officers, sneering haughtily and noisily reminding everyone of his existence. This party is a farce.

The First Order itself has become a farce: following the whims of an unstable mystic, throwing in with another mystic who’s supposed to be dead, and not concerning itself with practicalities such as actually maintaining control of and running a galaxy. If Ren were gone, it might be salvageable. Of course, Armitage can’t even think such a thing in Ren’s presence, and as Ren is almost always present, Armitage hasn’t had much of a chance to plan. The best idea he’s come up with is to leak information to the Resistance and cause the First Order to lose faith in Ren, but that’s a terrible idea that would put not only the First Order but Armitage himself in danger.

The longer this blasted party drags on, though, the more treason is starting to appeal to him. This is the sort of flamboyant, meaningless affair Brendol favored: a chance to rub elbows with ‘important’ people and try to make himself seem important as well. It occurs to Armitage that Pryde was one of those people; he was in attendance at no small number of the events Brendol attended back when Armitage was a subadult.

Armitage sighs at the unpleasant memories this thought unearths, forcing his fingers straight. The last thing he needs is to be seen tearing up another pair of gloves. Of course, this restraint just means his frustration has nowhere to go. He considers breaking his rule of not eating or drinking anything he didn’t prepare himself and indulging in some party food and drink. It would give his enemies a chance to poison him, but honestly, why bother avoiding an assassination attempt? What is the point of existing like this, powerless, blocked at every turn by incompetence?

Armitage sighs again. He’s never given up in his life, and he won’t start now. He’s survived all this time despite his father, despite the former Imperials, despite Snoke, despite Ren. He’ll survive Pryde too. He will watch, and he will wait, and he will take any opportunity that is afforded him...and in the end, he will come out on top.

“General Hux,” Ren says at his ear.

Armitage freezes, forcing his ruminations down where hopefully Ren won’t find them. “Supreme Leader,” he replies, voice level. For whatever reason, Ren has always loved appearing out of nowhere directly behind him. Perhaps it’s to startle him, to make him feel like prey. But Armitage won’t be provoked.

“Not enjoying the party?” Ren asks. He’s close enough that Armitage feels Ren’s breath on the back of his earlobe.

He manages not to shiver. He doesn’t miss the mask, not at all, but it did serve as a barrier between them that isn’t there anymore, and sometimes that adds a different sort of edge to their interactions. “It’s not that, sir,” Armitage lies. “I just got caught up thinking about tomorrow’s duty roster.”

“Always working,” Ren says.

Armitage can’t tell if Ren’s being disparaging or just making an observation. He bites back a comment along the lines of _at least someone is_ and turns to face the Supreme Leader. Ren is standing there in his usual outfit, all black, tunic and slacks and boots and gloves and cape; he hasn’t dressed for the occasion at all. Armitage hopes Pryde will take offense. “I enjoy working,” he tells Ren, which is true.

“It’s your life,” Ren replies.

Armitage isn’t sure if Ren has a point. He doesn’t reply.

“Is that your dress uniform?” Ren asks after a moment.

“Yes,” Armitage says, resisting the urge to glance down at himself, brush at the crisp white fabric, or needlessly straighten the gold piping and epaulets. He hasn’t eaten, drank, or even sat down since he left his chambers; his uniform should still be impeccable. Ren can play mind games all he likes, but Armitage won’t rise to the bait. He keeps his eyes locked on Ren’s, chin raised.

Ren’s eyes, as always, are too big, too deep, and a little watery. One of his lower eyelids twitches and he scowls a little, showing just a hint of white teeth between blood-red lips. Then, abruptly, he sweeps away without another word.

Armitage would be mystified if he wasn’t accustomed to Ren’s odd behavior. He’s still curious, even after years of this, but mostly he’s tired. Let Ren do as he pleases, so long as he isn’t choking Armitage or hurling him into a wall with the damnable Force.

(He hasn’t done that in some time. There have been moments. Threats. But the physical violence hasn’t happened again.

(Armitage isn’t fool enough to hope the change might be permanent.)

Armitage watches as Ren moves further into the hangar. Pryde, sycophant that he is, strides over to greet him. Ren doesn’t even stop walking; he waves a dismissive hand at Pryde and makes for one of the cargo lifts on the far wall. He’s apparently done with the party. Armitage wonders why he even bothered to come at all.

Pryde turns his pale blue eyes in Armitage’s direction and gives him a long look. As usual, Armitage can discern nothing from the man’s face, which seems permanently locked in a sneer. His gaze is unsettling, but Armitage returns it until Pryde finally turns away and resumes socializing.

~

Three hours in, Armitage is once again contemplating the bar. He’s not sure when it would be polite to leave, which makes staying at this party all the more torturous. After Ren left, the ghoulish Knights of Ren made an appearance, hovering around Armitage like a swarm of parvinoths before loping and looming their way around the hangar, intimidating everyone. Now that they’re gone, things are back to being intolerable, which means, ridiculously, that their visit actually offered Armitage some measure of relief. He supposes they did break up the monotony.

As Armitage gazes thoughtfully at the bar, Pryde comes his way for the first time that night. “We’re ending on a speech,” he says by way of greeting.

“We, sir?” Armitage asks. He doesn’t have anything prepared, but he won’t turn down an opportunity to speak to his people. There’s plenty he can generalize about, plenty he can play up. Perhaps he can even sneak in one or two of the code phrases that have been programmed into the stormtroopers, remind those here on guard duty who they serve.

He’s almost feeling cheerful when Pryde clarifies, “I’ll share the Order’s latest victories and hope for the future. The Supreme Council will flank me for the toast. United front and all. With me, General.”

Armitage keeps the disappointment from his voice as he offers a “Yes, sir.” Pryde stalks off, waving his swagger stick like a baton, and Armitage follows, wishing not for the first time that he’d been the one to bring swagger sticks to the modern First Order uniform code. Pryde is a mediocre irritant, but the swagger stick lends him a certain gravitas that might be part of why Ren was fooled into trusting him.

Pryde leads Armitage to the end of the hangar looking out at the stars. The rest of the Council has assembled there, and when Pryde arrives they form a single line between him and space. Armitage joins the line and faces the crowd as the lights in the hangar dim and a spotlight comes up on Pryde.

A server arrives with a tray of drinks; Pryde selects a glass, and then the server offers the tray to the line of officers. Armitage is the last to be served. He declines the drink and the server inexplicably takes it to Pryde, who tucks his swagger stick under his arm and accepts the second glass with his free hand.

“Fellow officers of the proud First Order,” Pryde says, his voice boastful as it echoes from the speakers. “I’m sure you’re grateful for this opportunity to celebrate our many successes. We’ve come so far since Starkiller and Crait and Batuu...”

Armitage has spent the past few months learning how not to scowl, but it takes all his strength not to react to Pryde calling him out in front of everyone. Pryde blames Armitage entirely for everything that has gone wrong for the First Order, and Armitage is worried that people are starting to believe him. The more Pryde reinforces his version of events, the more damage control Armitage must do later. He scans the room, trying to pick out individual officers and gauge their reactions, but it’s hard to get a good read on anyone in the dim light. And so he stands at parade rest and listens to Pryde’s speech and hates him.

Pryde is not accustomed to public speaking. He certainly doesn’t have nearly a decade of experience recording training and inspirational holos. He tends to meander, to switch abruptly to new topics, and to ineffectively support his statements. He also takes far too long to communicate a simple message. Armitage can’t check his chrono while everyone’s eyes are pointed in his direction, but he’s sure Pryde’s speech has gone on for 20 minutes now, with no end in sight. When Pryde suddenly cries, “To the Order!” and raises his glass, it’s so unexpected that Armitage startles as though waking from a fitful sleep.

“To the Order,” the assembled officers say in unison, and all those with drinks raise them to their lips.

Pryde drains the glass in his primary hand with gusto, shouts “To the Emperor!” and tips the second glass down his gullet too.

“To the Emperor,” the crowd says, but it sounds less fervent this time. Armitage’s breath catches. Could it be that there are others who are suspicious of all that’s happened since Pryde joined the fleet and the Emperor’s Sith Fleet was revealed? Is there hope for the Order after all?

Pryde turns toward the Supreme Council, face flushed and an actual smile on his lips. But when his gaze falls on Armitage, he seems to freeze in place, eyes widening. He stares at Armitage, slowly looks down to the empty glasses in his hands, then looks back at Armitage again. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, and starts to say something. It sounds like ‘tree’, but he chokes on the word and drops both glasses to shatter on the floor.

Then he’s convulsing, gurgling, clutching his throat and falling to join the broken glasses on the durasteel tarmac.

“Call a medic!” Armitage snaps, even as his mind whirls in disbelief. His whole body feels light. He recognizes what’s happening. He even recognizes the poison. It’s very fast acting, and even if the medic were here right now there’s no way the allegiant general could be saved. His throat has already completely disintegrated, and his heart and lungs will follow in a matter of moments.

Armitage watches Pryde flop like a fish on the floor, froth and blood pouring from his mouth, eyes wide and already empty. It’s one of the most beautiful sights he’s ever seen.

~

The investigation concludes that the poison was in the second cup—the one meant for Armitage. Armitage never touched it, as attested by the waitstaff, kitchen staff, and everyone in attendance at the party. Lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka testifies that Allegiant General Pryde always seemed to have it out for General Hux. The server testifies that General Pryde instructed them on how to serve the drinks so that a certain glass would make it to General Hux. The ship’s quartermaster testifies that Pryde himself ordered the components for the poison.

In all, it was a very, very sloppy assassination attempt...and yet it might have worked, had Armitage given in to his moodiness and accepted that drink.

“General Hux,” Ren says, stepping up close behind him on the bridge of the _Steadfast_.

“Supreme Leader,” Armitage acknowledges.

Ren says nothing more. Minutes pass. It’s become routine for Ren to loom like this; Armitage has found he doesn’t really mind, as it gives him a chance to demonstrate his superior level of competence to Ren. Armitage continues his work with Ren at his shoulder. For this mission to go smoothly, he must ensure the proper disposition of the fleet in near-Exegol space.

It’s not until Captain Peavey has confirmed he’s taken command of a single _Xyston_ -class Star Destroyer and that Star Destroyer is navigating through the treacherous cloud of gas and stardust surrounding the planet that Ren speaks again. “Victory is within our grasp.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” Armitage agrees. With Pryde out of the way, getting the First Order back on track was far swifter and simpler than he expected. Ren changed his tune almost immediately. The fleet has been reorganized; the _Finalizer_ and _Supremacy_ and other ships damaged at Crait are in the process of being refurbished; and very shortly, the Order will have hundreds of planet-killers at its disposal.

“General Pryde would have had me subservient to the Emperor,” Ren says in a low voice. “To the creature who targeted me before I was even born, who tortured me, as he targeted and manipulated my grandfather, decades ago.”

Armitage looks at Ren in surprise. Everyone knows Darth Vader was the Emperor’s enforcer, but it hadn’t occurred to Armitage that it might not have been his choice. And while Armitage is aware of many personal details about Ren’s past, he has never heard Ren himself speak so frankly about it before.

“Darth Sidious doesn’t deserve the First Order,” Ren says fiercely. “We do.”

At that, Armitage turns fully to face him. “ _I_ do,” he dares to say. “ _I_ built the First Order.”

Ren huffs out a laugh. “You have a very high opinion of yourself,” he says, a comment along the lines of the jabs Ren has thrown his way throughout their entire working relationship. His next words, however, are new. “But it’s not unfounded.” Did Ren just—

“Sir,” Chief Petty Officer Unamo calls, breaking into Armitage’s thoughts. “The _Revan_ is clear of the debris.”

Armitage spins to face front again. “Tell Captain Peavey to activate the navigational beacon. As soon as it’s transmitting, call our new ships to us,” he says.

“Aye.”

The same hyperspace-field enhanced processing power that made hyperspace tracking possible is now allowing Armitage to control the Sith Fleet. Compared to charting and comparing all possible routes of a ship that has just jumped to lightspeed, controlling the basic operation of a few hundred identical ships is child’s play. Armitage watches with rising anticipation as the first of the ships emerges from the red dust, and then more and more of them are rising up to join their true fleet.

Ren staggers suddenly, hands flying to his temples. “Now,” he grits out. “He’s in my head.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” Armitage says crisply. It occurred to him that this might happen, that the Emperor might directly attack Ren. It also occurred to him that he might simply let it happen, let circumstances sweep another obstacle out of his way. But Ren has been very useful these past several weeks. If not for, well, everything, they might have worked quite well together all these years, rather than clashing at every turn.

Besides, Ren has just given Armitage a compliment.

“Captain Peavey,” Armitage says, “fire on Exegol.”

Through the viewport, Armitage watches the _Revan_ ’s axial superlaser glow red. It takes far less time for these Sith Fleet cannons to charge than a Dreadnought’s autocannon, but Peavey had orders to charge it as soon as he was clear of the debris field just in case. It’s fully primed now, firing almost as soon as the order was given. Its pulsing red blast sears through the gas and dust and pounds into the planet below, shattering it.

In seconds, Exegol is completely obliterated.

Ren straightens, drops his hands to his sides. “It’s done,” he says. Then, incredibly, he adds, “Thank you.”

Armitage turns his head toward Ren. The man is flushed, eyes downcast, hands in fists. He looks strangely appealing like this; before he can help himself, Armitage imagines pushing him to his knees and burying fingers in his hair.

Ren looks up as though he has heard this thought, and maybe he has; Armitage suffers through a split second of terror before Ren smiles again and says, “I see.”

Armitage clears his throat. “Send the boarding parties,” he calls. Stormtroopers will infiltrate the Sith Fleet and eliminate any crew who refuse to swear loyalty to the First Order. At that point, the ‘Sith Fleet’ will be no more, and the newly bolstered First Order fleet will secure the Order’s hold over the galaxy.

Ren leans close to Armitage’s ear. “Come to my chambers when you’re finished,” he says softly. Without waiting for a response, he spins on his heel, cape swirling around him, and marches off the bridge. It’s overly dramatic, but Armitage can’t help but watch him go.

Armitage directs his forces for as long as is necessary, and then a bit longer after that. Then he gives the conn to Lieutenant Mitaka and makes his way to the officers’ quarters. It doesn’t occur to him until he has reached Ren’s door that he is not nervous about what might happen here. He does not expect to be taunted or physically assaulted or summarily executed. He’s _looking forward_ to...whatever this is.

The hatch cycles open before his fingers reach the call box. Ren stands there, hands and feet bare, wearing just his trousers and a soft-looking long-sleeved shirt. It’s a good look for him, Armitage thinks. Ren smiles and ushers him in.

Armitage is barely through the hatch when Ren moves close, eyes darting over Armitage’s face, lips slightly parted. He’s close enough to touch. Armitage puts a hand on Ren’s chest, but not to push him away. He wants to touch Ren. He can feel Ren’s heartbeat.

“General,” Ren says, and he’s breathless. Armitage’s own breath catches. “Armitage. I want to kiss you.”

The idea is so shocking and yet so obvious Armitage is flummoxed for a beat. How this has never occurred to him before is astonishing. “Yes,” he stutters out finally.

“It’s not an order,” Ren says, and now there’s heat in his voice.

“No?” Armitage asks, and if Ren doesn’t kiss him soon he’s going to shatter to pieces like Exegol. “Well, this _is_ an order.” He takes Ren’s face in his hands, leans in until their noses touch. “Kiss me.”

Ren does, surging forward with such force that he backs Armitage into the wall. Armitage’s fingers slide back and curl into Ren’s hair as his mouth is utterly devoured by the Supreme Leader of the First Order.

“Kylo,” Ren pulls back just briefly to pant out. “Call me Kylo,” and then he’s biting Armitage’s lower lip, sucking it into his mouth, exploring it with his tongue, and all Armitage can do is groan.

~

They’ve stumbled to the bedroom and Armitage is slipping his hands up under Kylo’s shirt when a wild thought occurs to him and he lets out a laugh of surprise.

Kylo detaches his lips from Armitage’s neck. Slowly, warily, without showing his face, he says “What?” He’s big and powerful and the ruler of the galaxy, and yet somehow, right now, he sounds vulnerable.

Armitage’s chest is strangely tight. “I always thought Pryde’s existence was pointless,” he explains, stroking fingers through Kylo’s hair. “But if it hadn’t been for Pryde, I wouldn’t—we wouldn’t—” Armitage somehow can’t bear giving voice to the thought. An hour ago, he wouldn’t have believed this possible. He doesn’t want to make it impossible again.

Kylo finally pulls back to look at him. They’re sitting next to each other on the edge of the bed, but Kylo slides off onto the floor, nudges himself between Armitage’s knees, and wraps his arms tightly around Armitage’s waist. “He wanted to kill you,” Kylo says quietly.

“He wasn’t successful,” Armitage reminds him.

"It was too close.” Kylo buries his face against Armitage’s stomach.

Kylo was...worried? Despite the fact that Kylo asked him here, asked to kiss him, has been kissing and touching him, Armitage can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. Wanting is one thing. This... “Kylo,” he says.

“No one will ever hurt you again,” Kylo says, the words muffled by Armitage’s undershirt.

“Kylo,” Armitage says again, feeling dizzy. He doesn’t want to ruin it, but he’s seemingly incapable of leaving this alone. “What changed? When did you stop hating me?”

Kylo looks up at him, eyes glossy with tears beneath dark lashes. He sucks at his lips, cutting his eyes away briefly before refocusing on Armitage. “I never hated you,” he says. “I tried, but...I couldn’t. Snoke said—he told me—he said it was wrong. To—to want you.”

Armitage sucks in a breath. Through that lens, their past interactions make a hell of a lot more sense. “It’s not wrong,” he says. The words come easily. They feel right. “Come here.” He scoots backward on the bed and Kylo crawls after him and Armitage lies back and pulls him close, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and letting the other trail down his hip.

As Armitage’s touch reaches Kylo’s thigh Kylo shudders, bucks suddenly against Armitage’s leg. Armitage can feel the hard line of his cock through their clothes.

“Do you want...?” Armitage asks, sliding his hand down between Kylo’s legs. Kylo nods fervently, biting his lip, and undoes his trousers. Armitage wraps his hand around the head of Kylo’s cock and Kylo lets out a long moan. “That’s it,” Armitage says as he squeezes up the shaft and slides the column of his fist back down. “That’s it. Good—”

“Ah—!” Kylo cries out, tensing and shaking, and hot come spills over Armitage’s hand. Kylo is beautiful like this, eyes squeezed shut, mouth wide open, cheeks flushed. Kylo is always beautiful, Armitage thinks. “You think about me a lot,” Kylo says hazily, pushing his face into Armitage’s shoulder as he pants for breath. “That made it harder.”

The fact that Kylo has been denying himself for years, the fact that it has been a struggle, should be gratifying...but right now, Armitage mostly feels a sudden, indescribable rage. “I’m glad they’re dead,” he says, meaning Snoke and Pryde and Palpatine. “I wish I could kill them again.”

Kylo hums in agreement and throws an arm around Armitage’s waist. He looks like he might fall asleep at any moment.

Armitage buries his clean hand in Kylo’s hair and wipes the come off the other as best he can on Kylo’s bedsheets. His cock is half-hard, but he doesn’t feel the need to do anything about it. For the moment, all he’s thinking about is the exhausted giant sprawled against his side. “Get some rest,” he whispers, and Kylo shifts and snuggles closer.

~

When morning comes, Kylo is still curled against him, and he’s still holding Kylo, and it wasn’t a dream.

Armitage _does_ think about Kylo a lot, he has to admit. He’s always thought about Kylo. He just thought it meant Kylo was his biggest obstacle, requiring the most attention and planning. Not—

“Hi,” Kylo says sleepily, raising himself up just enough that he can see Armitage’s face.

“Hello,” Armitage replies, smiling without even thinking about it.

“I want to suck your dick,” Kylo says.

Armitage lets out a snicker, even as his cock twitches in his trousers. “Needy thing, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Kylo says cheekily. “No one’s here to tell me what I should want anymore. Can I?”

“Of course, darling,” Armitage says, with more fondness than he thinks he’s ever heard in his own voice. (Has his voice ever been fond?)

Kylo shivers and grins and lets out a little giggle, and Armitage had no idea the Supreme Leader could be adorable, but he apparently can.

He also, Armitage shortly discovers, has an extremely talented mouth.

Something is happening here. Armitage has never felt this way before, never even considered that he might feel this way, and yet relating to Kylo now feels so natural, as though they’ve been like this forever. It’s hard to put a finger on what’s changed, when so much is different, but one thing is obvious: Kylo is happy, and Armitage likes it.

He’s not sure he’s ever seen Kylo happy before.

Kylo pulls off Armitage’s cock with a delightfully obscene slurping noise. He licks his lips and says seriously, “I’m not sure I ever have been. Have you?” Before Armitage can even begin to process that staggeringly matter-of-fact pronouncement, Kylo descends again, and it’s not long before Armitage is crying out, hips twitching up as he comes down Kylo’s throat.

“Come here,” Armitage says as his mind slowly surfaces from the fog of orgasm, because not holding Kylo right now is intolerable. Kylo obeys, crawling back up the bed, and Armitage wraps both arms and one leg tightly around him. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” he says thoughtlessly, because that’s how he feels right now, and only after the words are out does it occur to him that they might have been the wrong thing to say. So many people have tried to own Kylo, his whole life: his parents, the Jedi, Snoke, Palpatine, the galaxy as a whole. But this is different. Surely Kylo knows that. Never mind that Armitage barely understands what’s going on at this point. Kylo has to know— “And I’m yours,” he attempts to clarify. “Aren’t I?”

Kylo is quiet for a moment, and then he lets out a loud sniffle. Turning his face into Armitage’s neck, he says wetly, “Yes.”

Last night, Kylo vowed that no one would ever hurt Armitage again. Now, Armitage makes Kylo that same promise. “It’s the two of us against the galaxy,” he says. “And the galaxy’s going to lose.” Kylo laughs a little, raising his eyes to Armitage’s face again, and Armitage leans forward and kisses him.

“You’re sure about that,” Kylo says against Armitage’s lips, and it isn’t a question.

“Nothing can stop us,” Armitage says. “Not now.”

He doesn’t have the Force. He doesn’t have the power of foresight. But he knows it’s true, knows it just as he has always known he was destined for greatness. He knows that now that he and Kylo have found each other, found the _real_ each other, any who try to stand against them will fall.

And, as it turns out, he’s right.


End file.
